


back to zero

by sierrastop



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, ot4: we're beta together, these smooches taste like angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 05:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sierrastop/pseuds/sierrastop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you are seventeen and you are in love times three.</p>
            </blockquote>





	back to zero

_You are not important anymore._

Once upon a time you were a god with stars in your eyes and a whole solar system hidden behind your ribs. You played a game that fucked you up, fucked you good, left you broken but not alone, not really, because even though they are gone and sometimes you dream of gray seal skin and yellow eyes, you have been sewn back together like a rag doll of spare parts – Dave’s lips and Rose’s hands and John’s heart all twisted up in the sheets of the same bed, the AC blasting and chapped lips smiling and tangled hair because Rose has grown hers long and you chopped yours off for a change, _you needed a change._

You laugh and you cry and, god, you cry a lot. You wipe snot on John’s shirt and he whines because Rose has already gotten her lipstick all over it and Dave peels it off of him to switch just so he’ll _shut up for one goddamn minute, John, you were the one who wanted to watch this fucking movie in the first place._

Rose’s laugh is high and girlish and you think it sounds a little bit like home, the way her big empty house in New York has started to feel like a real place to live. John cooks and you do the dishes at his side, bubbles everywhere, and you all strife on the roof sometimes, just for old time’s sake even though it makes Dave so, so sad and you end up curled around each other under the stars, wondering if anyone on this dumb rock of a planet knows the real stories behind the constellations, knows the way their names taste on a sigh or how endlessly black their mouths were.

Every night you tuck yourself in. You shove the edges of a blanket under the bodies around you because its more fun to share just one between you and besides it gets hot with four bodies in one bed, and you curl up into dreams without golden palaces, without doomed timelines and hollow white stares. You have a tangle of limbs to keep you grounded and there is talk of venturing out into the world tomorrow, of eating pancakes in the city and visiting all the best tourist spots. You think it might be fun to drive the car but no one will let you because you’re a danger behind the wheel with the windows down and the radio blasting, _you almost killed us last time, Jade!_ but they probably will anyways because it’ll make you smile and that’s what matters.

You are not important anymore, not in the grand scheme of things, but to three people you are the world and stars and all the spaces in-between in a way that has no hidden meanings or sideways glaces _and you wouldn’t want it any other way._


End file.
